Reunion
by Netherwood
Summary: They graduated, and life went on. Almost a decade later, Haruhi bumps into two old friends, Kyon and Yuki, and gets invited to dinner.


_Disclaimer: Neither Haruhi Suzumiya nor her cohorts belong to me. I'm just playing, and I'll put them back where I found them when I'm done._

* * *

**Reunion**

**by Netherwood**

* * *

He hears me shout, looks over, and those eyes—well, they don't light up, exactly. That's how you describe energetic people who bounce around, people with electricity crackling off their skin. But Kyon, his eyes just _open_, taking in the whole world and me with it into the little cosmos in his head. He raises a hand—no way would he ever shout across a public market—and cocks a half-smirk as I bound over to him.

The words—what has it been, two years since last time I saw him? The first words in two years are stupid. Mundane. Unimportant. The sort of thing I never would have bothered with in the days of the SOS Brigade.

Hey, Kyon, how are you? What are you up to? You still doing the accountant thing? Man, where'd you ever get that idea, anyway? I mean, _accountant_?

You know, they're the sort of words that don't make up for _living_ with someone, walking at their side and sharing the world. But I make do with them because the alternative is to smirk, grab him by the shirt, and say, Come walk with me. Share the world with me. Be a part of my life.

I promised myself not to drag him anywhere ever again. So, we talk about stupid things and I feast on shadows.

After a minute or so, I catch her out the corner of my eye. Yuki Nagato, stepping from the crowded market, heading straight for us. She stops dead when she sees me, though. I let myself glance over, make like I just noticed her and the bag of groceries she's carrying, and call her over too. Yuki! Hey, over here, Yuki! What are the odds?

Yuki… we've kept in touch a little better than me and Kyon. She sends me manuscripts, and I read them, comment, and send them back. I'm not sure why she bothers getting my opinion. She was the president of the literature club, the only member really until the SOS Brigade started chipping in. She's the one who reads walking down the street, I seriously don't even know many books she's gone through in her life. And it turned out she's a better writer than I'll ever be, too. Really, I think passing me her stories and poems is just her way of keeping in touch, and I'm grateful for it. But even with all that, she never volunteered much about the rest of what's happening in her life, because—well, because Yuki.

Her gaze is as calm and focused as ever, dark eyes hinting at vast things. She holds still to let me bring my hand up to her hair—it's longer now, falling in pale, lilac-scented strands to just past her shoulders. It's still orderly, still sensible, but Yuki herself seems just a bit more… relaxed.

"It suits you," I tell her.

She nods infinitesimally, the most acknowledgment she'll spend on hair, then completely changes topic. "There is a new manuscript ready." Quiet, short, and indirect even while she's looking at me with those dark, honest eyes. Oh god dammit, I missed having Yuki around!

Then, something passes between them—a glance, a question, an answer, a five-minute conversation, and I feel a quiet suspicion rise up, one I've always had about these two. Is this okay with you, her eyes ask him. She's not asking _permission_, of course, because that would be stupid. It's more like, I'll spare your feelings if you want. And his eyes answer back, Might as well do it.

So, Yuki turns back to me, and lifts the bag of groceries she's carrying. "Come to my apartment. I will make dinner, and give you the new manuscript. We… would like to see you. Is this acceptable?"

Well, damn straight it is! Let's go!

...

The apartment… is bigger than the one she had in high school. Fuller, too—shelves of books line the wall, like Yuki's need for a private library finally overcame her apparent need for simplicity in her living space. Where did she keep all her books in high school, anyway? Kyon sure seems to know his way around, too. And… I don't get a look at the bedrooms, but the living room definitely has touches of not-Yuki, clean as it may be. A picture on the wall of a Hokusai woodcut. A tv against one wall, and a stack of DVDs sloppily—sloppily!—stacked next to it. Yuki doesn't go for ornamentation like art, and she is many things, but never sloppy.

Yuki starts dinner—I'm not sure if she doesn't trust Kyon not to burn the apartment down or if she's just giving him the first turn to chat with me.

"Do you ever see Koizumi?"

"Meh, once in a while. You know, get coffee now and then. What about you, Kyon?"

"Yeah, occasionally. He drops by, and we email a lot. What're you doing now, anyway?"

"Oh, just a bunch of corporate translation work. Sheesh, when I went into linguistics, it wasn't because I wanted to translate memos for foreign company branches. I've already decided to ditch that, though—I was saving up some cash and waiting to see if Tokyo University will take my application for doctorate studies, otherwise I'm gonna go interpret for the Red Cross somewhere."

"Well, good to see you're as calm as ever."

"Oh come on Kyon, just because you think accounting makes a thrilling career doesn't mean the rest of us have to be happy pushing pencils. Go into archaeology so you can excavate ancient ruins and go globetrotting. Or be a writer, like Yuki! I bet you two would make a stupidly good team!"

"Archaeologists spend more time digging up trash than globetrotting and you know it. As for the other, there's no way I can write at Yuki's pace. I'll leave the overachieving to you, I'm content in my mediocrity."

And there it is again, Kyon wasting all his gifts so he can sit back and rot. That used to piss me off back in the day, which was part of the wedge between us. But now... now his lazy slouch and hand propping his chin fill me up. I can feel my heart swelling until I'm ready to burst with joy. How long? How long has it been? I can't even think straight to do the math!

Kyon looks at me funny when I start laughing for no reason he can discern. I can't stop it! It just bubbles up! I get it back under control quick, though, and change the subject before I leap across the table to tackle him.

"Mikuru's doing great too," I say. "You know I'm roommates with Mikuru, right?"

"I think I remember it, yeah."

"Her interior design work is getting popular. And such a bombshell! You have no idea how hot grown-up Mikuru is!" There's nothing like that happening between us, but I still hold that anyone with a pulse would be turned on looking at Mikuru's sexy smile. How did we get a vixen out of that innocent, cute girl we used to know?

"Somehow… I think I can imagine," Kyon replies, with a glint of humor in his eye.

...

Yuki shows up with dinner, then passes me her manuscript, which I do quick scan of while we eat.

.

I think it was… junior year's summer vacation? Sounds right. All five of us had gone camping for an SOS Brigade activity—looking for chupacabras and kappas having a gang war in the mountains, I think I said, like we really needed an excuse to take off together every chance we got. We were hiking around, camping wherever we felt like, and one night after we'd had dinner I saw Yuki sitting by the girls' tent and holding a tiny notebook, contemplatively drawing a pen across the page so slowly it must have taken her five seconds to write a single word.

"What's that, Yuki?" As soon as I got the words out, I remembered the strange poetic story she'd written for the literary club's journal. Something like that, maybe?

She seemed at a loss for a moment, moving her mouth around silent words that didn't quite satisfy her requirements. Then she uttered, "Thoughts."

"Can I read it?"

That took her aback even more—if Yuki's hardly-changing face can ever be called taken aback. She flipped through her book for a few minutes. I would've snapped at her to hurry it up, but she seemed to intense as she slowly turned pages, stopping to stare at one section as though weighing universes, deciding which ones could see the light of day. She handed me the book and pointed to a pair of haiku in her neat, slender pen:

.

The eastern mountains,

pale behind the sheets of glass,

will birth fire at dawn.

.

The western valley,

stoking the dying embers,

takes its final breath.

.

I'm not big on poetry, but I liked it, and I told her. She took the book back, chose another page, and gave me another haiku:

Squint, lest the sun see

shuttered corners of your eyes.

Drawn blinds, nudged aside.

That was when I realized I didn't really know my friends that well. Yuki was a poet, and I barely noticed. Where did Mikuru live? I didn't even know. I couldn't remember Koizumi ever mentioning anything about his life, other than having a part-time job. Kyon... Kyon was maybe the only exception, and that was for selfish reasons.

"If there's something you want," I told Yuki, saying the very first thing that came to mind, "Grab it!"

She glanced off to the side, where Kyon and Koizumi were sitting at the campfire.

.

Back in the present, I excuse myself to the restroom for a quick break. I take a look around; there's definitely two sets of shampoo, one hers, one his. Two towels, two toothbrushes.

.

On my way back, I stop in the hall just outside the dining room when I hear them talking quietly. All this sneaking around doesn't suit me, not at all! I genuinely don't want to interrupt, though. This whole thing is making me feel... wrong footed. I don't like that feeling! I don't like it, and I'm not used to it. She says something, he laughs quietly, and I poke my head into the room just in time to see them kissing.

I silently pull my head back, and make myself wait. Not a good time. Not a good time at all!

I can't help but think, though...

From what I saw, their kiss was soft, gentle. Kyon, leaning forward, one hand covering her hand. Yuki, face turned up, inviting him in, eyes closed, her free hand holding his arm. I... I used to imagine what kissing Kyon would be like. Wild. Breathless. Electric. I'd make him thrash, put energy into those bones, light up those always-calm eyes of his. Maybe Yuki knows him better than me.

...

We finish dinner. I head off to the train station, Yuki's manuscript in hand. Kyon insists on doing the gentlemanly thing and walking me there, since it's dark by now. Yuki takes my hand and squeezes it in hers before I head out the door. "Come again," she says quietly. "I... missed you."

.

By the time Kyon and I are walking the dark street together, I've held back as long as I can. Whatever guilt or regret I feel at being such a poor friend years ago, I'm too bullheaded to stay quiet forever. Can't be done.

.

"So... you and Yuki, huh?"

He immediately looks off to the side. "We... weren't trying to hide it or anything. We just..."

"Yeah, I know, I know, it's not like we've talked a lot over the past few years. It's not like I'm mad or anything. When I told you to go and live your own life, I really meant it! It's just..." I can't help but sigh. "I figured you out too late, Kyon."

"Haruhi missed something? I don't believe it."

"Har har. I'm being serious here! I dragged you along with me everywhere. You, the whole SOS Brigade. We did what I wanted, we got in trouble whenever I felt like it. I think I ran you pretty ragged."

"Maybe. It was fun, though."

"Yeah, but I dragged you all into it! Hell, I _literally_ dragged you, and damn your complaints! When I realized how much that was wearing you down, breaking you up... I went to Tokyo University, you went to some tiny little community college, and I let you find your own way. But... if I'd let you go, then asked you to come—not dragged, just asked—would you have? You were the first person I really saw as another human being, Kyon—someone with their own needs and thoughts. After that... well, Yuki was easy, of course. She's just this beautiful, fragile soul—how couldn't I love her for who she is? Then Mikuru, I wasn't every nice to her, and I didn't like realizing that. But check us out now, she's my best friend! We're roomies! Koizumi... I don't think I ever got behind that damn mask he keeps up—but I remembered there was someone behind that mask, even if he wouldn't let me in. You were the first I really recognized as a person of your own... probably the last I accepted as your own person, though, because that meant you'd be free to take off somewhere else."

"Well, it's not like I could've made it at Tokyo University. I'm not ridiculously brilliant like you."

Even if Kyon's never dodged a question or an accusation from me before, he did right there—and I _know_ he was hiding things back in high school, just not what. I sigh again. I'm doing too much of that for a happy reunion like this! "Look, Kyon... I thought you were like me when we first met. Before we started the SOS Brigade, I mean. Not many people were brave enough to chat me up by that point, and you were the only one drawn back to the weird girl like it suited you, like maybe you tired of the same old world too."

Kyon chuckled. "I guess it must've been disappointing when I turned out to be such a boring dullard, then."

"No way, you were anything but boring! You saw things, Kyon. Most people just turn off their brains and sleepwalk through life, and yeah, you kind of looked like that's what you were doing... but you were always paying attention, putting things together in ways other people just can't. No, I stand by my first impressions. It just took me awhile to realize I was right."

Kyon shifts about uncomfortably, reluctantly, like something's wrong. "Even so, it's probably for the best that you think of me as just another boring guy. Someone you see in the streets now and then, maybe have tea with, but not someone you..." He trails off, and looks away from me into the night.

My jaw nearly drops as I realize what's bothering him. It's been almost a decade since high school, a decade of careers and long silences and dead memories blurring together, a decade of walking our own paths. And yet, as I watch him stand there staring away from me and looking so torn, I realize that deep down, Kyon would still follow me if I grabbed his collar and yanked. No matter what's keeping him here—no matter _who's_ keeping him here—he would still come with me.

With that kind of promise, I would have grabbed him without a second's thought back in high school. Hell, if I'd managed to figure out what I really wanted back then, I would have just grabbed him even if I wasn't sure it would work.

But now... it would hurt him. It would hurt Yuki.

So I'll never ask that from him.

"That... might be best," I reluctantly agree.

We say our goodbyes. He starts away.

But... even if we can't be that... we can still be something.

"Kyon!"

He turns back, barely visible in the night.

"Next time, you and Yuki have to eat at our place! Mikuru'll want to see you two, too!"

He hesitates a second, then nods. "You have Yuki's cell?"

"Yeah! I'll call tomorrow!"

You and Yuki.

Kyon-and-Yuki. That's how I'll think of them, or at least how I'll think of Kyon. We won't be the SOS Brigade—just a bunch of old friends. Me, my roommate, our friends who hooked up with each other, our other friend who smiles too much, if I can hunt him down and invite him to dinner too.

Maybe it's not what I expected when I was in high school—definitely not what I wanted years ago—but I think it'll be enough.

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...

A/N 1: Not sure whether I'll continue this or not. I started it as a one-shot, but I have some ideas on what's going on from the other character's POVs...

A/N 2: Hate hate hate fanfiction dot net's wanton destruction of spacing and punctuation dividers. Grr.


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